Camp Rock: The Night's Depression
by x.Mathani.x
Summary: Heyy guys this is just a scene i wrote in camp rock.Its not excatly a complete story. Its about Mitchie's depression and how she felt about her breakup with Shane. Enjoy : ..


It was dark. I lay silently in bed, allowing my intimidating thoughts to fill my mind. My atmosphere spoke of sadness, melancholy, and of course the very feeling of abandonment. The day's tiring work was evident in the aching sores of my body. As I paused to take a deep breath, the scent of grass and dust filled up my nostrils. As I closed my eyes forcibly, a screen of memories popped up. The memories spoke of pictures that once brought happiness to me. Nevertheless, my thoughts came to a conclusion that these pictures seemed to assault me in a sort of way. There was one picture of me and Shane, sitting by the river, enjoying a delightful afternoon chat. Another image pictured Shane saying goodbye to me after our first date. Smiles spread on my face as I visualized the memories that once were apart of my peaceful atmosphere.

My eyes remained closed as I flipped through the album of memories. The pictures seemed like a train I used to ride back home - it rode continuously and never stopped. Unfortunately, little did I know that my mind's train would stop a certain picture, which I've been trying to avoid for so long. I felt the smile on my face slowly begin to turn into an atrocious frown. The picture was taken from the breakup scene of me and Shane. Although I've been trying to avoid this thought by keeping my self distracted with the camp's activities, I always seem to welcome it in the middle night, where abandonment defined my lonely self. As I lay helplessly in bed, my conscious could hear Joe's imaginary voice, murmuring whispers in my ear. I listened closely to the memory, but I can only make out a couple of words." We…..just…cant…stay... together…we…weren't...made…for…each …other". Tears came running down my cheeks, as these words continued to play as background music. My mind tried to block the atrocious thoughts, but it seemed to be a sort of smog, inevitably invading my mind.

I burst out of my bed, as my pillow had become an unwelcome home of haunted memories. I looked around to see Caitlyn sleeping gently like a little baby. Her face seemed smooth, free from trouble and anxiety. I wondered what she was dreaming about. I wondered whether my atrocious condition could ever match her friendly and trouble free environment. I picked up the broken mirror next to me. I closely observed the detailed concepts of my face between the dusty cracks of the mirror. I struggled helplessly to find a white round object between the endless dark of the night. As I finally saw the white glow of my face, my pimples and black eye rings slowly began to appear. The black rings around my eyes were well perceptible and the pink pimples that were scattered around my face couldn't seem to get any bigger. At times like these when I acknowledge the reality of my face, I eventually come to a conclusion that brings doubt and sadness to my own soul – I was ugly. I recalled the days where I struggled desperately, convincing my self that I was the ugliest girl in my year group. At times, the angels would defend me and tell me that I was beautiful, but after Shane had broken up with me, I could not find a more valuable reason for his action other than my ugliness.

I quietly laughed at the war like atmosphere inside me. It really confuses me how these good and evil whispers, which seem to not want to let go of me anytime soon, could actually influence my inner actions. This probably relates to the bad whispers, as their intentions of destroying me are beginning to succeed. I lifted my sore arm, to observe the skin it held. I ran my fingers through the well perceptible cuts which I myself had caused. I felt the dry blood around the wounds which I had attempted to cover with makeup in order to avoid the suspicion of my surroundings. I pressed harshly on the cuts that filled my arm. My eye twitched in agony, as the pain ran through my body. I slowly encircled myself in a dark corner, allowing my bruised arms to cover my bare knees. What have I done to myself? When is this depression ever going to leave me? Why isn't anyone helping me? These rhetorical questions sprang into my mind as I found my self in a lonely and abundant position. "Why, why, why" was all I could hear.

Knowing my selfish and unsatisfied self, I knew these lonely and melancholic lectures would lead to the one topic which I HATED to listen to. Why did he leave me? Why did he have to leave me there, lonely and abandoned? Why couldn't he hold on to me for a little while? Why won't his arms reopen to welcome me into his life? Why wouldn't his heart reopen to take away all this depression and sadness? All these days, these questions would accompany me, waiting for an answer - but sadly I never have a reply.

I lifted my head to see the sun rising slowly. It had always amazed me by the way it formed willingly allies with the moon. They would take turns, and allow the world to witness them. They worked together and never deceived each other. One of them would be sitting, waiting helplessly in the dark, while the other went up and shone its beauty. I watched from my little window, as the moon willingly moved downwards, allowing his brother (sun) to move upwards. Tears came running down my eyes, as I wished my soul would have the same routine as these two earthly objects. Why wouldn't these bad thoughts form allies with the angels? Why wouldn't these bad thoughts agree to leave me alone? Why wouldn't these bad thoughts ever go down and allow the angels to come up again? I felt myself drowning in a pool of tears as I desperately sprang my arms, hoping to spark a sign of rescue.

I slowly shifted my eyes from the window to the clock that lay next to me. It was 5:00. It was only an hour away before I had to be driven out of bed to greet mornings sun shine and help out with the camp. I slowly released myself from the encircled position I was in, allowing my head to rest on the pillow. Just as my expectations predicted, my album of horrifying memories unfolded once more. I tried to close the imaginary book, but it seemed like these bad thoughts aren't going to skip their usual routine of torturing me.

I started to panic as I tried to visualize the amount of time left for me to sleep. Gratefully, this panic had oddly come into handy. This new feeling had enforced my album of misery to close, pushing all the dreadful thoughts away. I closed my eyes once more, allowing my self to drift away in sleep. Silence filled my atmosphere, and for once in a very long time, I hadn't felt any sort of depression. Before the last blackout, my ears heard a familiar voice. This time, it wasn't an intimidating manly one. It was an artificial sound that I encountered everyday. It was a sign that meant to lead to my immediate reaction. As I struggled to unleash the originality of the sound, I felt a cold hand place itself on my arm.

"Wake up Mitchie!" Caitlyn said. "Didn't you hear the bell?"

I sighed loudly and dug my face further into the pillow.


End file.
